NanoWriMo...re sleep

Dear Maria,
I am in complete agreement that one of the most fantastic parts about November is pumpkin pie. I mean, getting together with family and being thankful is great and all, but here's a little secret for you: I freaking love food. Why do you think there's a bajillion Cadbury creme eggs in our fridge? To be generous to visitors? Psh.

This has quickly gone from writing about writing to writing about food. I think I need a snack.

Alright, five million cream eggs later, and I'm ready to be all academic and whatnot (ish). This will also be my first year of doing NanoWriMo, even though for years and years, Kristina Horner has told me it's the greatest thing since coffee. And if this isn't fantastic inspiration, I don't know what is:

So while I'm freaking out a teensy tiny bit about having to pound out 50,000 words in 30 days, I realize that I won't necessarily be a failure if I don't get to the ultimate goal. As a wise friend said to me once, "it's still so many more words you had than when you started." And as a highly competitive person, sometimes it works just to have a set goal that will make me feel like this if I don't reach it:

I may have said I wouldn't be a failure. But I sure as heck would be disappointed. I think having a support group of writers who are in the same insanity-driven boat will help us not lose hope, or at least maintain some sympathy when we say "no, no I swear I'm not tired..." then crash into a wall. As the spazz of the century, that happens on a daily basis, so if you see a set of black and blue spots where my legs used to be this next month, you'll know why. I find my outer self already yelling at my inner self for even considering waking up at 6:30 just to write for an hour, but damnit, I want to skip in front of those other English majors who are scrambling to write an essay for class the night before, and go, "I have my essay, and a freaking novel [disregard quality of novel here], na na na boo boo!"

...Sometimes, I am a terrible person.

Yet there are quite a few things about this upcoming endeavor that worry me. I mean, as a person who gets greatly inspired by an idea, writes a few lines, then gets an even more easy to write genius idea, I realize my resistance to outlines is gonna make me fall short for any big project. I mean, even if I get to 20-some-thousand words, I'll realize all my characters are happy, that lonely guy fell in love with the shy girl, and I am 100% screwed. Because as quality as I am at padding up an essay to fit word requirements, it would take some serious skill to add 30,000 words of "like," "absurdly," and "ridonculously."

Okay, so ridonculously isn't a word. But it should be.

I hate planning things, but if you want to take on a big writing project, you gotta do your research. You can't become an Olympic swimmer by diving into a pool and deciding the water looked nice and pretty and you have a swimmer's build anyway. Sure, I have the signature social skills and furrowed brow of a writer, but honing in such a skill takes patience, research, planning, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And maybe 5% inspiration, but you're right that writers are inspired about as often as Snooki says a coherent sentence. I'll be kicking and screaming the whole time I pound out that outline, but no pain, no gain baby. It's what Jillian Michaels has always told me anyway. Also, hating sweat is apparently for the weak.

However, my most major concern is sitting down to write, ending up on facebook (why, oh why did I make fb my homepage??), responding to contraversial political statuses (oh, how I love the sound of political bashing in the morning), watching Jenna Marbles poke fun at the male species, and "awww" over pictures of cute puppies. Suddenly, it's two hours later, I'm still in my "text-moosaging" pants, and there are two words on that word document. With technology at our fingertips (literally), it's so easy to get distracted by the stupidest stuff. For some reason, I prefer to act like an old person and longhand my writing, even though it takes a bajillion years to write a page. And then when I type up what I scribbled out on paper, I feel like I'm more productive when I'm chatting with friends about cute boys and laughing at Mitt Romney memes. Remember that shudder-worthy month when I wrote L'amour Shlamore? That was all longhand. So maybe lack of distractions doesn't correlate with quality of work (or I was just an idiot in 10th grade), but it certainly helps with timeliness.

Which makes me wonder. Do I dare longhand 50,000 words? Do I risk the hand cramps and weird stares when I actually have pen and paper? Or do I just get some goshdarn willpower, and type the darn thing?

I'll think about it while I outline it up. Let the pain begin.

Peace and Ponies,
Kira 

P.S. Why Kristina Horner does NanoWriMo: